


Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

by MissCricket



Series: Carver Hawke Smut Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Arguments Full Of Sexual Tension, M/M, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Mages, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Warden Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: Tumblr Smut Prompt: You’re hot when you’re mad. (Carver/Anders)
Relationships: Anders/Carver Hawke
Series: Carver Hawke Smut Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990078
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Your Mouth Makes The Prettiest Noises (When You're Pissing Me Off)

The doors to the Hanged Man crashed open.

Instantly everyone in the tavern looked up, and took in the sight of the dark haired man standing in the double doorway, arms still outstretched and a grin on his handsome face. Most of the patrons recognised him as Garrett Hawke and looked away again, some rolling their eyes at the man’s drama.

Behind him, another dark haired man followed, sighing as he did.

“Must you do that?”

“Course I do, little brother,” Garrett grinned back at him as they made their way across the common room floor and up the stairs to Varric’s private suite, “Hello darlings!” he caroled as he crossed the threshold, spreading his arms again, “Daddy’s home! And look what the mabari dragged in!”

Carver pulled a horrified face behind his back, and slowly slipped into the room behind him.

“Carver!” Isabela waved at him with a wink, “My, my, the Wardens have done wonders with you.”

Beside her Varric chuckled, but nearby Fenris stood up abruptly, “Good,” he barked, voice sharp with annoyance, and for a moment Carver felt disappointment stab through him. Fenris had never seemed to like him, despite his best efforts. He’d hoped things might change, now that he was coming back as a Warden. But then the elf continued, “You can talk to _him_.”

There was a world of venom in his voice when he spat that word, and Carver blinked, before stepping further into the room to take in the shape of Anders sitting across the table from the irate elf.

“Oh Maker, do I have to?”

A corner of Fenris’ lips quirked up, “Yes. It is your punishment for making your brother worry about you. Sit.”

Carver elected to ignore the comment about his brother, who was currently tapping his fingers on Merrill’s shoulders, while she grinned up at him, and slowly made his way over to take Fenris’ place across the table.

Anders looked older than the last time he’d seen him, more cares worn into his face, and his golden eyes seemed to have lost some of their brightness. He also looked thinner, and Carver shot a glare at his brother. Surely he must have noticed…

“Let me guess.” he turned back to Anders, and smirked faintly, “You were talking about Mages.”

“Of course we were!” Anders scowled at him, “He can’t see how the situation of the Mages here is akin to slavery.”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Except...it isn’t.”

Anders’ eyes locked onto him, and there was a bit more life in his face, and his eyes.

“Andraste’s arse, are you still so bitter about your brother that you can’t look at the reality of the situation!”

Carver felt the old irritation flare, but instead he leaned back in his seat.

“No, I just think you have a terrible habit of using gross simplification to try and emotionally manipulate people into feeling pity for you.”

Anders’ feathers seemed to bristle with profound rage, and nearby, Carver saw Fenris shoot him a thoughtful look.

“How can you-?” Anders spluttered.

“Easily,” Carver leaned forward, “Look I don’t think the Circle is perfect. And the Templar Order is definitely not. And change does need to happen, you’re right about that much at least. But the fact of the matter is that just chucking the Mages out on their own, or treating them as everyone else is...well its stupid.”

“Your brother…”

“Was trained by my father.” Carver interrupted, firmly, “Who was Circle trained and knew exactly what to expect from young children discovering their magic.”

And they had me, he thought silently, the old anxiety clutching his chest before he pushed it ruthlessly away. He was a Warden now, he was no longer the one tasked with that...burden.

“The Templars could have dragged your father and your siblings to the tower.” Anders insisted, “You never would have seen them again. They might have been made Tranquil.”

“It’s not perfect.” Carver leaned back, “But the Templar order is something that in essence is needed. They are supposed to protect the mages...and protect from them as well. But with everything...it can so easily be corrupted by men with their own ideas. Men will always abuse high ideals to get what they want. But that doesn’t make the ideal wrong.”

Anders spluttered at him, and Isabela whistled softly, “Look who’s all grown up…” She leaned in with a wicked grin, “Who knew debating Mage theology could be so….stimulating.”

Carver shook his head at her, and turned back to Anders, who launched into his counter argument. Which Carver zoned out to after a single second because...sodding hell…

There was something about Anders. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, which was already something that Carver liked. He wasn’t pretty, he wasn’t cute...he was however...rather attractive. Especially with his golden eyes flaring with passion, and his lips slowly reddening from the agitated swipes of his tongue.

Something about him had always gotten under Carver’s skin. 

At first it had been irritation at how quick Anders started fawning over his bloody brother. Then it had been rage at his casual references to Bethany...focusing only on the part of her that interested him. Her magic. She had been so much more...and he’d...well he’d reacted poorly.

So there was no love lost between them, but still...

It was unfair how attractive he found him. He liked the glimpses of a man behind his mission of Mage freedom, liked the cheeky humour and the flashing grins.

He was sodding gorgeous, and that always made Carver uncomfortable, because he didn’t have Garrett’s easy charm. He couldn’t say something witty and make it sound dashing. He was clumsy and awkward...and despite his friends in the Wardens helping him with it...he still found himself floundering more often than he could like.

So he’d resigned himself to staying quiet about it.

And he opened his mouth to give Anders a rebuttal.

But what came out of his mouth was,

“You’re kind of gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Anders spluttered to a stop and gaped at him. Fenris choked on his wine and Isabella yelped, tumbling off her chair.

Oh Maker…

Internally he felt the panic rising, and so he quickly stood and scooped up his tankard. “I’d better get another drink.”

“Hey!” Varric yelled after him as he beat a quick retreat out of the door, “That’s mine! Junior! Sodding hells…”

He thunked the tankard onto the counter and sighed softly, before gesturing for another one, “Fill both of them up please…”

“What the hell did you mean by that?” 

Carver whipped around and gaped at Anders, who stood behind him, arms folded and a frown on his handsome face, “Anders…”

“What did you mean?” Anders growled, “Did you actually mean it or were you...being cruel?”

“Cruel?” Carver blinked at him in surprise, “Maker’s hairy ballsack why would I be cruel?”

“You...oh...you meant it then?”

Carver gave him a disbelieving look, “Yeah, I meant it...Didn’t mean to say it...but the contents...yeah that I meant.”

Anders’ tongue swiped out over his lips again, “So...I’m gorgeous when I’m mad?”

“You’re gorgeous all the time...well all the time you take care of yourself.” He plucked at the other’s coat, “Like, what the hell is this? You’re all skin and bones, Magey.”

Anders’ batted his hands away with a huff, “I’m not skin and bones,”

“You like hunted.” Carver informed him bluntly, “I know what that looks like now. And I also know how much food a Warden needs to eat in order to stay healthy. You are not eating enough.”

“Maker’s breath you fuss as much as Hawke does. Is that how you lot share affection? Fussing someone to death?”

Carver shot Anders a deadpan look and slowly dragged his eyes up the other man’s body, enjoying the flush that sprung up on his pale cheeks.

“Looks more like our fussing is stopping you from dying…” He shot the other a smug smirk, “Magey.”

“Stop that,” Anders scowled, and folded his arms, “We’re getting off track. You think I’m gorgeous.”

“When you’re mad.” Carver agreed, scooping up the new tankard and gulping down a mouthful before the taste hit him and he nearly gagged, “Holy balls of fire thats…” he caught Norah’s eye and wilted, “...good stuff.”

Anders laughed, and Carver turned back to look at him, “You’ve grown up a lot...but you’re still you. I’m glad to see the Wardens haven’t squashed the good parts of you yet.”

Carver frowned and shook his head, “See I don’t get it. You speak of them...with such bitterness. But when I ask them about you…”

Anders’ face crumpled slightly and for a second a painful vulnerability shone through, “They pity me, or hate me for betraying them.”

Carver stared at him, “You’re kidding right? Fucksakes Anders…”

“What?” the blond man blinked at him, “What?”

“They miss you.” Carver said firmly, and clearly, so the man couldn’t misunderstand a word, “They get this sad look, and they talk about you with such fondness. Cousland said she almost had a mutiny on her hands when you left. The others wanted to go after you, bring you back, make sure you were okay and safe. But she insisted they weren’t the Templar order, she didn’t want you caged. ‘If Anders needs us’” he quoted, “‘We’ll be there. He’ll always have a place with the Wardens.”

Anders’ face did something complicated, “You...really?”

Carver nodded and Anders looked away, and the pair of them lapsed into silence, not looking at each other as Carver drank again, fingering Varric’s tankard.

“I should um…-” 

“Come back to the clinic with me.”

Carver blinked owlishly at the other man, “You what?”

Anders scowled but folded his arms, “Come back to the clinic. With me. And get naked.” When Carver simply blinked again, Anders rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t pop loose, “With. Me.”

“Oh!” Carver put down his tankard and flushed darkly at the offer and the implication, “Oh...you want to...with me?”

“You are hopeless at this.” Anders informed him, before curling a hand into Carver’s black tunic, yanking him close with a grunt, “Andraste’s ninnyknickers…” 

“Ninnyknickers?” Carver snickered, “I think you just like making those up to scandalise people, you and Isabela both.”

Anders’ eyes crinkled in the corners.

“I admit nothing. Now...are you coming with me?”

Carver nodded and pushed his tankard to the side. Anders’ smile brightened even more, and for a moment Carver amused himself with the thought that Anders looked like the cat that had gotten the milk, or bird, he’d wanted.

Together they hurried out of the Hanged Man, neither of them hearing Varric’s outraged splutter as he had to come down to the bar to retrieve his tankard.

* * *

No sooner had they made it back to the clinic than Anders had Carver pressed against the door, golden eyes smouldering.

“This wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to go,” the Mage informed him, and Carver barked a nervous laugh.

“You think this was in my plans Magey?”

Anders’ white teeth flashed in the torchlight and then he leaned in. Carver held his breath in anticipation but just a breath away from his lips, Anders paused.

“Something wrong?” Carver whispered, suddenly struck with insecurity, “I um...if this isn’t what you want…”

“Shut up, Carver,” Anders chuckled softly, and his hand lifted to gently brush along Carver’s jaw, “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?” Carver asked, confused and edging towards insulted.

“How gorgeous you are, here in my clinic, looking at me like that.”

The insulted feeling melted away instantly and Carver, ducked his head in embarrassment.

Unfortunately he did it at the exact moment Anders leaned in to kiss him.

“OW!” Anders yelped and Carver’s head snapped up, having felt the sharp bonk of his forehead against Anders’ nose, and saw the healer pinching the offending appendage, “Bwudy hell, Barva.” 

“Sorry, shit….sorry!” Carver quickly snagged the bandage he always carried in his pocket and wadded it gently against Anders’ nose, stemming the bleeding, “Fucksakes….”

Anders burst into nasal laughter and a moment later he batted Carver’s hands away as pale blue magic misted over his nose, fixing it instantly, “You are a disaster.”

“That is what they tell me.” Carver sighed, “I’ll show myself out.”

“Carver…” Anders’ hand gently pushed his shoulder, sending his back thudding softly against the wood of the clinic door once more, “I want this. I don’t know how much clearer I can be that I want this…”

“Still?” Carver licked his lips and groaned softly as Anders’ golden eyes locked onto that movement hungrily, “Oh, okay...yeah...still…”

The blond leaned in, fingers slowly undoing the laces on Carver’s breeches.

“Also...clarification,” Anders murmured, lips a breath away from his once more, “I enjoy a quick tumble...but this...oh I’m going to savour you.”

Carver groaned, and next moment he was kissing Anders.

His hands lifted to gently cradle the Mage’s head, thumbs lightly caressing his jaw as he tilted the other’s chin up, deepening the kiss.

Inexperienced he was, but kissing...oh he’d done a bit of kissing. One of his warden associates had even called them toe-curling. And Anders definitely seemed to approve, because he moaned into Carver’s mouth, and leaned into him, warm and wanting.

“You’re full of surprises, Warden Hawke.” Anders purred against his lips as the kiss broke, and Carver groaned, kissing his way down the other’s neck, wrestling with the coat and tunic underneath, “Pity you’re such a little shit...that mouth of yours is magic otherwise.”

Carver laughed against his neck and bit sharply, enjoying the yelp it elicited, “Like you can talk Anders.”

“True...we should form a...club.” there was a note of wistfulness in his voice, a longing deeper than what they were doing, and Carver pulled back slightly to look at his face.

Anders looked a little unsettled, unsure, and so Carver gently brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, and then sank to his knees, “Want me to use my bratty mouth in a more useful way, Magey?”

Instantly, hunger ignited in Anders’ golden eyes once more, and his long, deft, elfroot stained hands, gently carded through Carver’s black hair.

“Maker, yes.”

Carver grinned, and undid Anders’ breeches, considerably less deftly than the Mage had done with his, and tugged the mage free of his small clothes, enjoying the sound that the action drew from the man above him.

He’d done this before, twice, and had enjoyed it, but there was something about this time, something about Anders, that made Carver extra determined to make him go weak at the knees.

So he leaned in and slowly ran his lips along him, feathering his tongue against the warm, soft skin, while he also grasped the mage with his other hand. Anders wasn’t the largest man he’d been with, but he was quite long, and Carver’s hand wrapped around him in a way that was profoundly satisfying.

Apparently it was also satisfying to the blond man above him, as the action earned a truly wanton sound. It made Carver grin against him, and then take Anders deep into his mouth, fingers peeling away as he bobbed, smirking at the noises the actions elicited.

“Carver…”

He’d never get tired of hearing his name on Anders’ lips, especially with that little hitch of breath, the catch of pleasure in his voice.

Carver turned all his considerable focus onto Anders, determined to make the man melt, and it didn’t take long, by Warden standards anyway, for Anders to begin shivering against him, those long elegant fingers tugging at his hair.

“Carver...Maker...I’m…please…”

Carver smirked, thrilled to having reduced the mouthy mage to a few spluttered, moaned words, and sucked sharply.

Instantly Anders’ knees gave way, and Carver held him up, with his strong arms wrapped snugly around his thighs.

“Carver!” Anders’ voice was a wail of pleasure, and the young Grey Warden smiled as he felt the mage reach the edge and tumble over it. Carefully he swallowed around him, until Anders’ noises became discomforted ones, too sensitive for him to continue his ministrations. Gently he lifted the mage and staggered them over to Anders’ private room, small and dark and windowless and musty. But it had a bed, and that was what he tumbled them onto, in a great sprawl of limbs.

Instantly Anders wrapped himself around Carver, nosing at his neck sleepily, “You haven’t...I need to.”

Carver looked down at the mage, and saw the exhaustion in every line of his body, the way his eyelids could barely even crack open, and how utterly boneless he was. Although he was hard as a rock, he smiled, and gently carded his fingers through Anders’ fine blond hair.

“That’s okay Magey, you get some sleep.”

“S’bad sex manners.” Anders mumbled, already halfway to the Fade.

Carver chuckled and kissed his lips softly, “I’m sure we’ll do this again. You can make it up to me then.”

“Stay…” Anders breathed, before he drifted off into sleep, a smile on his lips.

Leaving Carver, aching, but with a deep, warm feeling of satisfaction simmering in his chest.

“I’ll stay.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Anders’ feeling the too thin knobbles of his spine, “Someone has to look after you Magey.”

And he determinedly did not think about the packet of orders waiting for him in his room back at the manor. He could take a week or two here in Kirkwall surely…

...after that…

Well…

Who knew.

**Author's Note:**

> And if YOU want more Carver smut, you can request a pairing for one of the prompts located at.
> 
> https://misscricket.tumblr.com/post/633177274518241280/carver-smut-give-me-pairings


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